Any Day with You Read online

  ALSO BY MAE RESPICIO

  The House That Lou Built

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2020 by Mae Respicio

  Cover art copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Mock

  Interior art copyright © 2020 by Mark Koerner

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Wendy Lamb Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Wendy Lamb Books and the colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Visit us on the Web! rhcbooks.com

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Respicio, Mae, author.

  Title: Any day with you / Mae Respicio.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Wendy Lamb Books, [2020] | Summary: During the summer before seventh grade, Kaia, who enjoys living in Southern California, visiting the beach with her family, and creating movie make-up effects, makes a film with her friends to win a contest and hopefully prevent her beloved great-grandfather from moving back to the Philippines.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019023201 (print) | LCCN 2019023202 (ebook) | ISBN 978-0-525-70757-8 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-0-525-70758-5 (library binding) | ISBN 978-0-525-70760-8 (paperback) | ISBN 978-0-525-70759-2 (ebook)

  Subjects: CYAC: Family life—California—Los Angeles—Fiction. | Filipino Americans—Fiction. | Great-grandfathers—Fiction. | Motion pictures—Production and direction—Fiction. | Los Angeles (Calif.)—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.R465 An 2020 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.R465 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  Ebook ISBN 9780525707592

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  Penguin Random House LLC supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to publish books for every reader.

  ep_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Mae Respicio

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  FOR MY SWEET BOYS, ALDEN AND CAEL

  I know the ocean first by smell, then by sight. It’s how my family always does it.

  Sunlight floods our car as we wind up the Pacific Coast Highway. Once we near the beach Dad rolls down the windows and says, “Everyone breathe it all in!”

  My big sister, Lainey, snorts loudly the way she does whenever Dad says that, and we crack up.

  I close my eyes and inhale softly; it smells like morning and seaweed. That’s when I spot it: miles and miles of glittering water.

  We pull into a small parking lot. Mom, Dad, and Lainey unload our gear while I help my little brother, Toby, out of his car seat. Then a short walk down a rickety wooden staircase. As soon as we touch bottom I kick off my flip-flops and we pad along, the sand soft and warm under my feet. We plonk down our things.

  “Ah, perfect,” Mom says, shaking out a blanket that floats in midair.

  Toby grabs his shovel and starts digging. Lainey and Dad yank surfboards out of their long cozies. And I do what I always do: trace a heart and plant myself in the center of it.

  Around us the beach is already packed with colorful umbrellas, kids building castles, and surfers bobbing in the distance. Waves lap in gently.

  Among all these people I’m a dot and nothing more. I imagine a movie camera looking down on me, then zooming out-out-out as wide and far as it can go until it reaches a million miles away and I dissolve into a small blue marble. The Earth.

  I’m not sure why it’s called Earth instead of Ocean, since most of our planet is covered by water. I learned that from Tatang, my ninety-year-old great-grandfather—he feeds facts to me like candy. Tatang taught middle school and knows everything.

  In his younger days, Tatang used to swim and free-dive in the Philippines, where he grew up. He’d come across animals like the psychedelic frogfish or the blue-ringed octopus, so wondrous they seem more like mythical creatures from the Filipino folktales he loves to tell. I’ve looked them up to try to sketch them, but I’m sure it’s not the same as seeing them up close.

  Lainey sits next to me and I rest my head on her shoulder.

  Dad sighs. “Our last family beach day before Dr. Lainey leaves, huh, girls?”

  “I can’t wait,” Lainey says.

  “Hey!” Dad says.

  “I mean…yeah, I’m really going to miss you guys,” she says with a big grin.

  Next week Lainey’s crossing the ocean—all the way to the Philippines—to study abroad for the summer. Then in the fall she’s off to college in New York. Premed.

  “You’re going to have an amazing time, sweetheart,” Mom says.

  At the end of Lainey’s high school valedictorian speech, the crowd gave her a standing ovation, and my family cheered the loudest. Tatang even brought a megaphone and shouted, “Way to go, Elena!”

  Impressing people is my sister’s talent. Sometimes I get a little jealous. I’ve never done anything that people gush over.

  Lainey nudges my side. “How you doing, Kaia? You’re kind of quiet.”

  “You’ll miss the solar eclipse,” I say. It’s at the end of the summer and she won’t be back in time.

  “The Philippines should have an eclipse, too, right? I thought we all shared the same moon and sun?” She gives me a teasing smile.

  “No, I mean here. Tatang is taking us to the science museum. They pass out special glasses so we won’t hurt our eyes.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Mom says. “I’m sure he’s dying to tell us a new bakunawa story.”

  “The sea serpent who causes eclipses! I love that one,” I say.

  Everything I know about Filipino creatures comes from Tatang and Mom, since Tatang’s basically a walking encyclopedia and Mom teaches Asian American studies at a big university. They could tell stories nonstop. Tatang’s favorite is about the bakunawa, a giant sea serpent with a mouth as wide as a lake, who swallows suns and moons—until villagers scar
e him back into the water by banging on pots, pans, and drums.

  Whenever we see a partial moon, he likes to say, “Bakunawa’s been hungry.”

  I’m old enough now to know that magical monsters don’t cause eclipses. A total solar eclipse is rare; it happens when the moon completely covers the sun. What’s cool is this will be my very first one.

  I picture the sun going down here in Los Angeles and all of the beach-loving Angelenos freaking out and fleeing every which way like the world’s ending. We’ll only be able to see a partial eclipse, but it’ll be fun to watch it with Tatang. Some kids at school think I’m weird for hanging out with a senior citizen, but I don’t mind. Once people get to know my great-grandpa they understand why he’s my best adventure buddy.

  Lainey kneels by her surfboard and rubs it with a small bar of wax. “What do you think would happen if the sun disappeared entirely?” she asks.

  “Ooh, I know this one,” I say. “We wouldn’t immediately turn cold and shrivel up and die, but things would definitely be different.”

  Mom smiles at me. “How so?”

  “Well, there’d be no photosynthesis for the plants, so we’d run out of oxygen, and then the oceans would freeze and the bottom levels of the food chain would die off and we’d all turn into scavengers living off the dead, sunless bodies of other beings for mere survival!”

  Dad, Lainey, and I burst out laughing.

  “Aww, I wish I could watch the eclipse with you, Kai-Kai, but remember what Tatang always says.” Lainey clears her throat, stretches her arms like she’s hugging the air, and in her best imitation of our great-grandfather’s deep voice says: “Kaia, we all share the same sky, so when you’re looking up, you will know that I am too.” She shakes her finger at me. “And you’ll have your protective eye gear!”

  “If the sun ever disappeared the stars would still shine,” Mom says.

  “Sure, but we’d still depend on the sun’s movement. The sun is a star. It’s the center of our universe,” my sister says. “Which means Kaia’s right….Chaos would ensue. Especially in Hollywood.”

  “And for sure there’d be zombies,” I add.

  “Maranhigs! Filipino zombies!” Lainey says, and we bust up again.

  Dad slathers on sunscreen. “Considering this bright sun now, I think we’ll be okay, girls.”

  “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Lainey shrugs. “All right, who wants to paddle out?”

  “Is there any other reason we’re here?” Dad says.

  Mom pulls out a stack of celebrity magazines. “No thanks, I’ve got some important reading to do.”

  “Kai-Kai?” Lainey says.

  “Someone needs to stay and bury Toby.” I scoop sand and let it slip over his feet. He squeals. Toby’s three and definitely a Santos, because he could live at the ocean. Our family loves trying out different beaches all along the coast. We have one we can walk to from home, and we have spots like this, where we drive to and spend the day.

  Dad and Lainey grab their boards, run to the shore’s edge, jump in, and paddle out until we lose sight of their silhouettes.

  Toby’s little face scrunches up. “Where’s Lainey?”

  “She’s still there, you just can’t see her.”

  Out in the distance a wave breaks. It swells and gets larger as Lainey and Dad paddle to catch it.

  The ocean can scare people because it’s unpredictable. Sometimes the waves roll in calm and smooth, but other times they roar. It’s tough to know how to face the water. Lainey’s told me how big waves make her nervous—normally it’s Dad who rides them—but this time she beats him, jumping to a squat on her board before standing tall.

  Mom covers her eyes. I hoist Toby onto my shoulders.

  The wave looks ginormous. Lainey skims the surface and water begins to curl over her, rising higher and higher until she’s covered.

  “A barrel!” I shout.

  For a second I lose sight, but then she tunnels right through.

  “You can open them now,” I say to Mom, and she looks.

  Mom clasps her hands. “I can’t believe she did it!”

  Dad and Lainey paddle back in, out of breath. We run up to them.

  “Did you see that? My daughter’s first tube!” Dad shouts to random people on the beach, and he and Lainey erupt into laughter. “How’d it feel?”

  “Scary…but only at first.” Lainey’s like Tatang—always doing what they set out to do.

  They lay down their boards and are drying off when I notice Mom crying.

  “Are you okay?” Lainey asks.

  Mom shakes her head but smiles through happy tears. “I had this memory of you playing here when you were little….And now you’re so grown-up.” They wrap their arms around each other. Toby jumps up and Dad swings him in circles.

  I see sunshine everywhere I turn.

  * * *

  We had a full day, the kind that lingers with the citrusy smell of sunscreen even after I’ve taken a shower. I pull a brush through my wet black hair, trying to untangle the knots, when the sound of giddy chatter reaches my room. Tatang and Lainey.

  I sneak to Lainey’s door, which is opened a crack. I flatten my back to the wall and scooch in to listen.

  “Finally you’ll see our beautiful home country, Elena.”

  “You have to show me everything, Tatang. I want to see where you grew up, all the beaches, I want to ride a jeepney, and I definitely want to shop the huge malls in Manila….”

  Tatang’s got a busy summer ahead. In a few days he’s going to visit his sister in Hawaii. After he gets home we’ll have some time together, but then he’ll leave again for his yearly vacation to the Philippines. Lainey’s lucky because they’ll get to meet up there—she’s joining him at the tail end of her trip, and he’s planned a fun to-do list: meeting distant family, surfing, and doing tons of sightseeing. He’ll make the best tour guide.

  I wish I could see the Philippines with him, too.

  “Elena, you amaze me with your accomplishments,” says Tatang.

  That’s all my family’s talking about lately. Toby’s the cute one and Lainey’s the smart one, but I haven’t figured out what I’m good at yet.

  For a second I catch a glimpse of Lainey and Tatang and my eyes meet theirs.

  I step back.

  “Kaia?” Lainey says.

  “Come in and join us, my dear,” Tatang says, but I run to my room, shut the door, and sit at my vanity. As soon as I do, there’s a knock.

  “FBI, open up!” the voice says. When I don’t respond, Lainey asks, “Can I please come in?”

  “I guess.”

  “Hey, you.” She hops onto my bed and tries to meet my gaze, but I’m too embarrassed.

  I stack some tiny pots of eye shadow, still in their boxes. Lainey gave them to me as a goodbye present even though she’s the one leaving. My sister loves giving me little surprises and she knows exactly which colors I’ll love—silvery shades and ocean tones.

  “Okay, it’s just us now. What’s up?” she says. Somehow she always knows.

  “I tried really hard to get straight As last year.” If I could take language arts and history and drawing classes all day I’d be giving valedictorian speeches too, but algebra trips me up every time.

  “It’s not an easy thing, is it,” she says.

  “But it’s easy for you.”

  Lainey comes over and kneels so we’re eye level.

  “You know what’s not easy for me? Drawing things so realistic they look like they’ll leap off the page. Using colors to paint a story on someone’s face. Making friends. You want me to go on about your talents? I can, you know. The whole night.”

  Finally I look at her. “I’m not great yet with the makeup art.”

  She grabs a pot of a glittery shade and throws it at
me. I catch it.

  “Then get great. Practice. That’s what I had to do to get straight As.”

  I have this newish hobby: makeup effects. I read about it in our school library and Lainey let me dig through her makeup drawer to experiment. Now I’m hooked.

  Tatang never brags about me the way he does about Lainey.

  Maybe this is my summer to change that.

  I sit at my vanity with jars of brushes and sponges and a tray of little pots of eye shadows, spread out in a sea of different colors. Today I’m learning a new technique: the ombré effect. That means blending light to dark, or dark to light.

  Lainey and Tatang have both been gone for nearly two weeks, and I can’t wait for them to see how much better I’ve gotten.

  I press a stencil of fish scales to my cheek, dip a triangle sponge into a shade called Shiny Shamrock, and dab it over the scalloped pattern so that my tan skin warms the green. I do the same thing along my temples and forehead in Misty Aqua. My dark eyes shine against the bright colors.

  Last year a few girls in sixth grade started wearing lipstick and blush to school. My parents wouldn’t let me do that even if I wanted to. But they don’t mind this kind of makeup. It’s more like art.

  When I was a little kid, whenever someone asked “What do you want to be when you grow up, Kaia?” I always had a different answer:

  An artist like Dad. I’m not as good, but I’ve always loved to draw.

  A chocolate-cake tester—someone who eats chocolate cake for a living. I don’t know if this actually exists, but it would be the world’s best job if it did.

  A Sirena. A Filipina mermaid. Part human and part sea creature, a beautiful and powerful guardian of the ocean.